Breeze Bushfire - backstory

Breeze Bushfire

Druid - Magician - Circle of the Land

                                                                 Breeze Bushfire - Druid of the Plains

I speak Common, Druidic, Elvish, Goblin

First, Breeze Bushfire is not my given name. You see, I used to live in Felix. My mother was a healer, she dealt in herbs and my father was a cobbler. Not rich by any means but we got by just fine. I never wanted for anything. Between the two of them all sorts of people were in and out of our house. If they were wealthy, mother went to them. But everyone came to Father. I spent time playing with stray dogs, cats, the occasional mouse or rat, and with any birds that I could coax with seeds or bread to come to me. They said I had a way with animals. I also had a green thumb; that, I got from momma.

Life was simple. I learned elements of momma’s craft over time and knew how to make basic poultices and remedies for a cough or cold. But it was my uncanny way with plants and animals that made momma take note. Not all of those who paid a visit to our place were welcome, but momma never turned anyone away who was in need of help. “We don’t ask questions” she would often reply to my prying. Some dark, shady figures often would show up as soon as the sun set seeking help. And momma would give it. Dad never said a word though he would often give sideward glances, sigh and leave the room to his workshop. Then there was the night the dark elf came. She was graceful and elegant but had the most hateful, scornful look in her eyes. Even when she smiled she looked angry or disdainful. With her she brought a sick companion who was delirious from fever. “Send the boy out” commanded the elf. Momma explained I could be helpful and the elf, obviously dubious, consented to let me stay. Until he confessed. “I had to do it. She had it coming. And SHE would not allow me to go without completing the task” he moaned. “Shut up” she slapped the man. “You,” she pointed a long tattooed finger at me, "get me wine and him fresh water.” I was frozen wanting to know more. “Out, boy!” she hissed. Momma nodded for me to leave. The man started to get louder despite the elf’s protests. That’s when I heard it. I heard how he did it. Why he did it. And how the elf was behind it. A merchants daughter. A debt paid. A warning not to tempt fate further. "Shit!” The Elf exclaimed. Momma saw me peering through the door. Her hand by her side she motioned for me to go. I saw the blade move so swiftly so smoothly. Blood poured from my mother’s throat. “I must clean up here” said the elf, looking in my direction. "I’ll be back, she muttered to her companion." I ran. I ran out of the house. I kept running. I ran out of the town into the fields. I ran until my lungs burned and my stomach seized. For years I hid in and wandered the grasslands. I never went back home. This secret I carried with me. I knew my mother to be dead and assumed my father would be too. I was too afraid to come home. One day I would, but not until I was stronger. But time went on. I lived under bushes and beside grassy knolls. I slept under the stars. In the winter I would find a hole in a hill side or a hollowed out trunk of the random tree. I befriended plants and animals. These became my friends. It was they who taught me to love nature, to forget the life I had. They who were my guides and teachers. Taking what momma taught me, and what the creatures of the prairies and grasslands showed me, I became one with them. Never speaking to another soul.

I made friends with an elf while living in the prairie. Elros, of noble blood, one day wandered near me. We became friends as I learned Elvish from him and sometimes hid him from elven scouts, looking for this elf with wanderlust. My elvish became so good, I even acquired Elros' noble affect! While he never changed, he watched me grow over time from a teen to a young man. Elros often noticed that when the wind blew, I would listen to it. I knew when to hide long before bandits rode through. I knew when to find shelter before the storms came. He started calling me Breeze. You may wonder how I became a cultivator of eldritchweed Life became more interesting the day the archdruid roamed by in wild shape. I knew something was up when a prairie goat walked up to me chewing on herbs, but carrying sacks tied to each side of his waist. At first I thought this was someone's lost pet goat. But after days of his hours-long visits, of him returning and spending time with him, one day he shape shifted into an old man before my eyes. He introduced himself as Briac Bushfire. He noted my innate ability in magic, and offered to teach me more. He taught me in a language that I never heard but sounded like the wind thru the grass, the chirping of the birds, the growl of the wolves , the bugling of elk and the baying of sheep. Druidic. And I understood it naturally. I followed and learned from this man. For a few years he helped me harness the magic of nature. He taught me about eldritchweed. His eldritchweed was the best to smoke. Turns out he made a small fortune off the herb in the towns and cities of the realm. I have an errand for you. Go in to Greyhawk. Seek the Green Leaf Guild. Let them know I have a special crop, special seeds for them. These are precious for they are raised thru magic. “But isn’t all of our flower magic?” He smiled and chuckled. “Indeed.” So I came to the city of Greyhawk and met a crew of people, two of whom I already know: Celine grew up in the same town I did. Elros I met while living in the plains. Working for the Green Leaf Guild, I cultivated crops alongside Goblin farmers, and learned their language. Goblins get a bad rap. They aren't all bad. They're often misunderstood. They only work in the fields outside of the city, though. There is a gross prejudice against them among many in Greyhawk, and the propaganda against them and eldritchweed is fierce conflating anti-goblin prejudice with the plant itself. Truthfully, much of Briac's weed was not psychoactive. It reduced pain and inflammation and decreased stress. But the Guild had plans for these new seeds. One cigarette could allow the partaker to commune with nature, as if by a powerful Druid. This is where I would make gold for Mazy and her guild This is where I would make many friends in my travels.

Socially, I'm a bit awkward. Handsome as the devil but I don't see things in black and white, right or wrong. I'll steal if necessary. I'll kill if necessary. I find socially awkward situations funny, and will laugh. I'm not the one you want to be the face of anything.

While I love adventuring, my responsibility is to the Guild. We have our detractors. Anti eldritchweed propagandists publish articles linking the cultivation, distribution and consumption with the Goblin farmers; really they are anti-Goblin. Racists. Xenophobes.

I am learning to love Greyhawk. I spend most of my time in the Garden District, tending to the Guild's crops. Nature exists everywhere, even in the largest of cities.

Breeze in the Garden District Tending to Eldritchweed Crops